


Insomnia

by Acaeria



Series: Sleeplessness [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Insomnia, Multi, Other, Queerplatonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-16
Updated: 2015-04-16
Packaged: 2018-03-23 06:23:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3757759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Acaeria/pseuds/Acaeria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eren never truly slept. Armin dozed with one ear open. Mikasa kept her other hand pressed to her pocket, where she kept a sharp and deadly dagger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Insomnia

**Author's Note:**

> Last night I couldn't sleep and the idea of this popped into my head, so I had to write it. That being said, I did write this pretty late, and it's my first time writing for this fandom, so please excuse any errors you may find!

Even as a child, Armin was never good at sleeping.

Every evening was a routine; his parents, and later his grandfather, would send him to bed and then check on him within the next ten minutes. They would make sure he was in bed, kiss him on the forehead, and pry the book he held from his fingers, taking it and placing it on the other side of the room.

And so Armin would roll over and sleep- or attempt to, at least. His brain kept him awake, his thoughts flying everywhere. He thought about the day's events, what tomorrow would entail, the contents of the books he read. And eventually, his desire to know more won over his tiredness, and he would slip out of bed and pick the book up from where it had been left, and then return to the warmth of his quilted haven. 

And so he spent his nights reading, always listening for the creak of the second step to indicate that someone was climbing the stairs. When he heard that noise, he would scurry to replace the book and climb into bed, pretending to be asleep, in case anyone should poke their head around his door to check on him.

He developed very good hearing, and a very poor sleeping pattern.

* * *

Mikasa was afraid of the dark.

It was a natural fear, a fear she couldn't control; a fear of the unknown that resonated from her very core. Every night she begged her parents to let her keep a candle lit, and although they had allowed it when she was very young, they refused as she got older. It was time for her to grow up, they told her. There were no monsters in the dark.

But every night after the door closed and the flame of her candle was extinguished and the sun went down, terror gripped her small frame and would not let go. Its claws latched onto her heart and her soul, and her mind raced, to the point where she was doubting her own perception of reality.

Most nights, she would cry herself to sleep; some nights, she wouldn't sleep at all.

The fear of the dark never left her, it only changed. She no longer watched for demons in the dark; instead, she closed her eyes tight, and hoped that when she opened them, herself and the ones that she loved would still be alive.

* * *

His father told Eren that he would make himself sick with anger, but Eren never believed him. Even when he would cough for minutes on end after shouting, or throw up after a particularly intense argument.

He argued it was not connected, not at all, his anger was completely natural and not a problem at all. Even at night, when he tossed and turned but couldn't sleep, despite his exhaustion did he deny the truth. 

His anger was killing him, and in the worst possible ways, for they were slow and drawn out. He wondered how long it would take to die from not sleeping. He wondered if anyone would even care.

* * *

Mikasa had nightmares.

The Jaeger house was small, and Mikasa's room was barely more than a broom cupboard. Often, Eren would be woken by sobs from the next room, and wondered how they did not wake his parents; they were so loud, and it broke his heart to hear them. Mikasa never screamed, however, not like Eren did when he had bad dreams. He wondered why. 

One day, he and Mikasa are alone in the kitchen. He wants to say, "I know about the dreams." He wants to say, "You can come to me, if you like." He doesn't say either of these things, instead taking her hand and squeezing it, aiming what he hopes is a comforting smile her way.

He thinks that, judging by the look in her eye, she understands.

* * *

The next night Mikasa appeared in his doorway, eyes wet with tears and breath uneven. Eren sat up, watching her silently as she closed the door and flitted like a shadow towards him.

He hadn't shared a bed with another person since he was young enough to barely remember. Mikasa's feet are cold as she slips under the covers and her warm breath tickles his neck. They lie facing each other, watching each other through the darkness with wide eyes.

Mikasa's tears stop and her sobs fade away. Her feet have warmed up, her toes poking against his. Her skin is soft as she takes his hand; her head nestles against his neck. Her hair smells like lavender, and her eyes slowly drift close.

Eventually, so do his.

* * *

The winters were something awful.

None of them had ever considered homelessness before. None of them had considered helplessness or abandonment either. However, that was what the situation presented them with, and they were trying their best to get by.

They were too young go get jobs; they had no money. They were entirely dependent on the military, on the government and the merchants that sponsored the refugee camps. They were, as Eren ever-so-kindly put it, parasites.

The winters came with biting cold and a chill that froze their bones long before snow ever arrived. There were no lodgings left in this town, and no rooms in the camp that weren't full capacity and riddled with diseases.

The three of them slept outside.

It was always cold; their only sources of warmth were each other. They found some form of shelter- beneath an overhang, under a bridge- and slumped against a wall. Armin would slump against Eren, latching onto him for warmth, and Eren would curl around him accordingly. Mikasa sat at an angle, her body curving around Eren's, one arm reaching across to rest on Armin's back.

Eren never truly slept. Armin dozed with one ear open. Mikasa kept her other hand pressed to her pocket, where she kept a sharp and deadly dagger.

* * *

It was nice to sleep in a bed again.

Mikasa didn't dislike the military. It kept her warm, it fed her, and she excelled at the classes and activities. This was a place where she could thrive, and really hone her skills.

There was just one problem- and a large one at that.

She couldn't go to Eren's dorm, and slip into bed with him every night. She couldn't seek out the warmth and comfort of Armin's presence when sleep evaded her. She couldn't feel their bodies around hers or seek comfort in the warmth of their breath.

Instead she slept with a red scarf around her neck, choking her and reminding her that she was still breathing.

She might have doubted it, otherwise.

* * *

Days off were hard to come by, and Armin knew he'd be seeing very few of them in the years to come. However, he had one now, and he wasn't about to give it up.

He, Eren and Mikasa had escaped to the training woods after breakfast. It wasn't much like the fields outside of Shiganshina district, just within the refines of Wall Maria, but it was better than the crowded streets of the nearby town the other trainees would be attending.

They found a shady spot beneath a tree on the edge of a cliff and sat there for a while. They shared the food Mikasa had stolen from the kitchen (Armin assumed she'd had Sasha's help- that girl was a master). They sat and talked and for once, Armin found that he could relax.

There were a lot of things he would remember about that day. The sunlight glinting off the leaves, the view from their perch, the way his sides hurt from laughing too much, the keen glow in his friend's eyes. The feel of their hands in his and the taste of their lips.

The way time had passed far too quickly, despite him wishing it could never end.

* * *

Eren wondered if he'd ever escape the fate of sleeping in dungeons. When he figured that no, he probably wouldn't, he wondered if he'd ever get used to it.

As he mulled the question over, staring at the ceiling in the dark and not feeling the slightest bit tired, he was distracted by the clink of the door opening. He looked up to see two very familiar figures creeping toward him, and each of them climbing into bed on either side of him. They seemed unbothered by the chains that must be cutting into their sides as they lay beside him, reaching across his chest to hold each other's hands.

The talk between them was infrequent and light, little murmurs that filled the air with soft noise that was gone as soon as it appeared. Eren, to his surprise, found that his eyes were drooping, and saw that his friend's were, too.

As he drifted from consciousness, he found himself thinking about the surprising amount of sleep he'd gotten lately.

But this wasn't the unconsciousness that plagued him after he emerged from the steaming carcass of a titan. No, this sleep was deep and dreamless, warm and full of bliss.

When he woke, he was certain it was the best sleep he'd had in years.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm thinking of maybe writing a sequel to this?


End file.
